What Not To Were (Paris, Texas Romance #2)

They’d left the dance shortly after their song was over, sneaking out, if one could sneak in Paris, to hop in his truck and make the drive back to Nash’s ranch.

The ride was softly quiet, a cooler breeze blowing in from the windows he’d left cracked, pushing her hair about her face. The dashboard lights had highlighted his strong jaw and wide hands, one of which he’d entwined with hers as she sat beside him on the bench seat.

They’d slid from the truck without words, both lost in the magic they’d discovered with one another. What she loved most about Nash was, words weren’t always necessary. He knew her by her expressions, by her body language.

She knew his, too—knew how frustrating this wait had been for both of them. Tonight his body said a million things, one of which was, “Be my lover. Finally. After all this time.”

She took the wine from him and smiled, still waiting for her nerves to kick into overdrive. Yet, she was calm, ready as she settled onto his couch.

She loved this room, a room he called the great room, chock full of black-and-white pictures of his parents, now retired in Florida, and his brothers, one still in college and the other a financial advisor in Dallas. An entire wall above the stone fireplace was dedicated to his parents and siblings—a family that supported him always, through Skype, phone calls and Facebook posts.

It was one of the things she loved most about him—his sense of family. Their imprint was everywhere in this room, one that had once been his parents’ home.

He’d updated it, added touches that were all Nash, like a weathered saddle, the one his father had used when he was growing up, now mounted on the wall over the hall entryway. Warm hardwood threaded throughout the adjoining kitchen, where shiny appliances and copper pots hung above a reclaimed-wood island.

Sinking down beside her on his overstuffed couch, Nash said, “So, I guess ‘let’s get naked now’ would be totally unromantic?”

Calla ran her finger over the rim of the glass and giggled. “Nah. You’ve been a good egg about this, Cowboy.”

Nash ran his thumb along her lower lip before pushing her hair back over her shoulder. “It was my choice, too, Calla. I’ve waited a long time for this. I wanted it to be right.”

“Me, too…” she whispered without a single hitch in her voice, smoothing a hand over the dress.

“So, you wanna talk about what you mentioned earlier today? You know, before we see each other’s stuff?” he asked with a grin, removing his Stetson and dropping it on the long buffet table just behind the sofa.

It was now or never. Still, she didn’t experience even a shred of panic as she took his glass and set it on the end table nearest Nash and rose, pulling him up along with her and making the walk down the long hall to his bedroom, a thrill of anticipation racing along her spine.

To her surprise, it was dark, but the moment they entered, Nash snapped his fingers, creating a warm, tropical breeze and a beachfront scene in the wide set of windows. Waves lapped at the white, sandy shore, gentle and soothing, a palm tree swayed beneath a buttery moon.

It was one of the illusions Nash was so good at creating, and her heart skipped a beat that he’d remembered how much she missed the ocean.

“Ohhhh!” She murmured her pleasure, smiling up at him. He didn’t use his magic often. It was technically reserved for extreme circumstances, making his efforts even more special. “Warlocks have their advantages.”

He chuckled, a deep, sexy sound to her ears, filling them with everything Nash. “I know how much you miss water since you left Boston. I thought I’d surprise you,” he whispered against her ear from behind, circling her waist and pulling her against the shelter of his chest.

Calla leaned into him and sighed as his hands roamed over her hips and down along her thighs, humming her pleasure at the instant response he evoked between her legs.

As Nash began to move upward, his hands settled just under her breasts and that was when she turned in his arms and looked up at him. “So that talk…”

Dipping his head, he captured her lips, sliding his tongue between them, sipping at her mouth, sending wave upon wave of heat throughout her limbs. His cock was rigid against her, straining beneath his jeans. “All ears.”

Forcing herself out of his arms, she grabbed his strong hands and gave them a squeeze before she let go and took a couple of steps back, swallowing hard. “I’m just going to show you, but I want you to listen very carefully to me, Nash. If you’re upset at all, even a little, please, please be honest. And if you can’t say anything at all, I’ll take your silence for an answer, and leave, and we don’t ever have to speak again.”